Sunny B

That bitch,
the sun, comes
nagging long
before
noon
mewling for the grass to be
cut
and the curtains to
be
opened
bleating for a
milking
crowing for a
cooking
and
butting her big red nose
into my face--
onion breathe and all;
I roll
away and bury
my head in the sand
(in your hands;
between your
breasts).

-Geoffrey Griffard